Hurt Me Daddy, for I Have Blogged

She had never visiting a Living inside a passageway. The health centers were located inside the underground passageways so that people from either side of the fence could get to them. The Masters and Collectors had one wing, and everyone else took the other. The other wing was hermetically sealed. But this was not just any visit to a Living. It was to the sealed side of the Center. She would need to wear a bubble suit, by mandate. Visits by Harvesters or any Infs were rarely permitted. They divested her of any tools. Incredibly thorough search, body scan and questionnaire. The fee was less for her, since she had her own fully functional Engine of Joy. --- He sat upright in bed. One of the many who had a gas mask welded on surgically around puberty; nebulizer over that. Their engines pulsed in time. It was frightening. She decided to speak to him in an ancient text called Binary. "Elder. Please excuse and forgive me. You must know why I was told to be watchful over you. F...

I walk by the sketchy-as-hell massage parlour that's always been open 24 hours. A Thai man in a fitted fedora wearing clothing the colors of the Thai flag is rocking out to a song blasting through his phone. Socks with sandals but his shoes are off. Is he waiting for a whore? He's engrossed in the music. I walk up to him and yell "Hey! Pachuco!" and he subsequently showers me with a slew of insults in Thai about how I am racist, in elaborate poetry. I thrust my hand out towards him and we begin a frantic Lindy Hop, him threading me over his shoulder in the East Coast Swing style. We begin to spit just inches from each others' face and make wild motorboat noises, eventually headbutting each other in a tribute to the International Cup soccer tournament. I wake up in my driver's seat. Snug in my car, no key anywhere to be found. I had been sleeping soundly. I look over and see the guy jerking it, facing one wall of the parking lot. I don't know what he...

Dalene picked up the phone. "Don't call people. Just don't call people." "Why?" "Because they're supposed to call us. I mean that's how it works." "Or we could just do this the easy way: hang out at Danny's Diner at all hours on weekends." "Our purpose isn't to sit there at Danny's Diner drinking milkshakes all the time to see if crime goes down." "It isn't?" "We're superheroes. I don't think we're supposed to be, you know, this fat." "You gotta problem with my weight, Gabe??" Dalene glared. "All I'm saying is that we spend a lot of time at Danny's Diner anyway." "Where else are we going to find people who are trippin' balls all the time??" "I dunno...Earth? The convenience store? Aren't we supposed to have a detector that goes off or something?" "What the fuck kind of money do you think we...

Dalene banged the door to Danny's Diner behind her and made accidental eye contact with the security guard. Something trailed from the bench-riding, passed-out homeless guy greeter's mouth. "Those are some glittery neon green shoes," said Gabe. "Thank you Captain Obvious," volunteered Dalene "Shh, don't spoil my cover." The two were seated and spent some time perusing the menu. Both eventually decided on milkshakes after what seemed like a time lapse of two hours. Things were moving especially slowly tonight. Dalene and Gabe chitchatted. About ten minutes later, the man sitting by himself at the table adjacent to the two got up and addressed them. "Hey, did you just see Morgan Spurlock walk out of here?" "Who?" "Morgan Spurlock. The guy who did Super Size Me , and that other documentary." "I don't even know who the hell you're talking about," counteracted Gabe. "I...I'...